A Gentle Sunshine
by S.K.Evans
Summary: His voice crack and his eyes stare at something beyond her. She feels the always-there ghosts that linger between them. They swirl around, clouding them in uncertainty, filling in the blank spaces, drawing in all the air until they both suffocate. - Companion piece to Sharp Edges. AU.
1. Part I : A Gentle Sunshine

**A/N:** Hello!

1) This is a companion piece to my story, _Sharp Edges_. It refers to the events of SE, includes the same set of main characters, and is set after the ending.

2) The structure of this is a little weird, guys. Just FYI

3) I haven't written anything for the last three years, so hopefully it flows pretty nicely. Also, no beta-ing on this.

4) I'm gonna mark this as completed for now, but I might add to it eventually if I ever feel like it. I have ideas for a follow-up, so we'll see how it goes.

5) It earns its M rating for a couple of reasons, including themes/mentions of anxiety, panic attack, a shitload of angst, suicidal thoughts, attempted rape, depression. It's probably not as bad as it sounds, I promise.

Enjoy!

—

It took a year for Tifa to trust him again.

In retrospect, she figured it probably should have taken longer than that.

It started with a nightmare. She couldn't remember what it was about, didn't even care at this point. All she remembered was the suffocating sensation, waking up gasping and shaking and sweating. She was alone in her shitty apartment, the sound of the city her only companion. The tears and the sobs threatened to burst out of her, but she swallowed them back. She was more than tired of crying, damn it.

She took a deep breath; her control shattered, and she couldn't hold the sobs and the _fucking tears_ anymore, and suddenly, she was just so scared.

Her phone was lying on the nightstand. It almost fell on the carpeted floor when she tried to grab it in her panic. It blinded her when she turned it on, but she didn't even need to see what she was doing; her fingers moved instinctively over the touchscreen.

He picked up on the fourth call, and deep down she thought it was weird because he had never been a heavy sleeper, but it was also 3AM and he needed to get up pretty early.

"Yeah?" His voice was rough and harsh. It cut through the panic like she had known it would.

But her breathing was still erratic, and the words kept getting stuck in her throat.

"Hello?" She didn't know how he could sound even more annoyed, but he managed it. There was the sound of sheets ruffling, and then, a muffled, "Fuck," as if he had brought the phone away from his ear.

But then, she heard him scrambling to his feet. The next time he spoke, his voice was awake and urgent.

"Tifa? Are you okay? What's going on?"

She wanted so badly to answer. But the damn words wouldn't get out. She brought a hand to her throat in fright, feeling like something was blocking her airway, and she choked.

"Breathe, Tifa, you know you can do it, I'm on my way, okay? Lemme just get dressed, yeah?" When she didn't answer, he kept on, "Put your phone on speaker. Bring your knees up and put your head down, and take deep breaths."

His words were clear and authoritative, like he had said the same thing a million times before. She nodded like he was here to see her, and slowly moved in the position he had indicated.

"I'm staying on the phone with you, okay?" She heard the clanking of keys, the slamming of a door, the fall of footsteps down the stairs, the rushing of the wind as he stepped outside. "I'm just a few minutes away, you can handle a few minutes, Tifa. You're strong, Lockheart, you can do it." Then, the sound of a car engine coming to life, his disembodied voice as he put her on speaker. "Keep breathing, you'll be fine."

She closed her eyes, arms hugging her legs, head in between her knees; her breathing was getting more regular, and had some point she realized that he had stopped talking.

The panic came back for a second, and she raised her head, scrambling for her phone. She almost screamed when his hand closed over hers and the other pushed her head back down in between her knees, and his voice was there again, so much closer and warmer, telling her how to breathe ("Hold it in a couple seconds, then exhale, alright? Yeah? You're doing so good, Tifa, so fucking good. That's it").

When she felt in control again and finally straightened up, she became aware of many things. First, she was gripping his hand so hard, her own actually hurt. Second, he was running his other hand through her hair, massaging her scalp. Also, he was wearing pyjama pants with _cartoon rockets_ on them. And lastly, he was here. _He was here, fuck_.

She finally spoke after clearing her throat a few times. "You are such a dumb fuck."

He gripped the back of neck, the pressure barely there. "Yeah?" He had the nerve to smirk.

"You drove here."

"Yeah, well, it was either that or running."

"You were on the phone."

He chuckled. She went to hit him, but ended up grasping his shirt instead. He stopped laughing, but the indulgent smile didn't disappear as he untangled her hand from the fabric.

"I didn't think about that." His smile slowly faded. "I just…you called and…well, you know." He looked away, but didn't loosen his hold on her hands.

Yeah, she knew.

He wouldn't meet her eyes, but she couldn't tear hers away. Had he come here because he felt guilty? That was probably part of it. Unable to resist, she freed her hand, and brushed her fingers over his cheek. He clenched his jaw.

"Thank you. I'm…." She swallowed hard. She couldn't believe what she was about to say. "I really needed you."

He exhaled a shaky breath. He shook his head, and for a moment she thought he would try to deny it. Her hand fell at her side, and before he could say anything, she added, "Let's go to sleep."

All trace of uncertainty vanished from his expression, and he laughed. " _Please_."

An hour later, she was still awake. She glanced at him; he was on his side, back facing her, as far from her as possible. The sudden urge to reach out was almost overwhelming, but she suppressed it.

It had been a year since Cloud Strife had come back into her life, and here he was, comforting her and sleeping next to her.

Yeah, she was a damn fool.

—

In the first months of his return, she and Cloud hang out a lot outside of her apartment. It felt safer to stick to neutral territories, some place where they could both make a quiet exit if needed. And though she finds their first few meetings awkward ( _really_ awkward), there's an ease between them that's soothing. It's different from what they had before. It takes a few months for her to realize it's because he's honest with her. Almost too honest. It startles her, at first; the Cloud she knew in high school hid behind so many lies that his newfound sincerity initially feels, well, insincere.

She can't help it, really. As mush as she tries to be understanding, she still gets nervous every time she texts him and he doesn't answer within two hours; when she calls and he doesn't pick up; when they're supposed to meet and he's late. Cloud notices (of course he does), but keeps from commenting.

So they go to coffee shops and eat on a bench during his lunch break. Always during daytime.

Until, three months in, Cloud walks into 7th Heaven two hours before closing time. Tifa doesn't see him. It's a Friday, it's busy, and she has a job to do. It's only once he seats himself at the bar and she comes up to serve him, flashing her best work smile, that she realizes who he is. He has a cap on, hiding most of his hair, his arms are crossed on the counter; he looks defensive, closed up, but his eyes don't stray from hers.

"Hey," is all he says.

There's a sudden feeling of awareness surrounding her. Her shirt is too tight, the neckline too plunging, and her heeled boots are killing her feet (but they make her ass look good in jeans, and fuck it, she needs the tips). Her hair is tied up in a ponytail that makes her head ache. She feels all the stares aimed at her chest as if they were pawing hands, hears the white noise of the crowd mixed with the music as if it was blasting two inches from her ears, sees nothing but Cloud's face amongst a dozen others.

But then her coworker bumps into her, splashing beer down the back of her shirt, and she gasps, coming back to reality. Maddy glares, bumping her again, this time purposefully. Tifa blinks, but nothing's changed. Patrons are still waiting for their orders and refills, her shirt is still sticking uncomfortably to her skin, and Cloud is still staring at her.

She tells Maddy, "I'm taking my break." The younger girl scoffs and rolls her eyes, but Tifa's been here longer, and her word is kind of law here at 7th Heaven, so she doesn't comment too loudly on the fact that it's _fucking busy_.

Tifa takes a deep breath once she's in the break room, and that's when she realizes her hands are shaking. She exhales loudly, composing herself. She hops on the table, crossing her legs and hugging herself. The only chair they had left broke under Barrett's weight two weeks ago, and her boss is too cheap to buy a replacement

She uses her ten minutes to calm down and think.

And she can't help but think that a part of her will always expect to be disappointed by Cloud Strife. She's appreciated the time he's given her to adjust to his return, though she was also disappointed he didn't try to push her to be friendlier. And now that he's made the first step, she doesn't know how to feel; it's so unexpected but also so much like him. In a way, it shatters the emotional distance she's put between them, and it shows that he really wants to try. Cloud Strife really wants to be back into her life. Part of her didn't believe him. She had at first, until the doubt started to creep in.

Cloud was here. He'd been in her life for three months now. A tentative friend she was learning to discover again. But as she got up and readied herself to go back, she felt the panic that had been simmering down flare up anew.

She runs her hands over her face, sighing. Cloud might not even be there anymore. Yeah, she decided, he probably isn't.

Of course, he is still there. This time, she doesn't let his presence distract her. Maddy has already taken care of his order, so she focuses on the rest of the patrons. She doesn't speak to him for the reminder of her shift, bringing him a refill once. He takes it without a word, only nodding. The bar empties slowly, until he is the only left with her and Maddy.

Tifa keeps glancing at him while she finishes cleaning up behind the bar. He's barely touched his second glass of whiskey. Maddy had tried to get him to leave fifteen minutes ago, but he'd stared at Tifa, and she had told the girl to let him be.

Once it was almost 3:30, she dismisses Maddy, who leaves within twenty seconds. Tifa goes to lock the door behind her coworker. Sighing, she leans her head against the wooden surface for a few seconds. She turns around. Cloud is still slightly hunched over his almost-full glass, but he has taken off his cap, and has a hand in his hair. She walks behind the bar, hesitates, then grabs herself a beer, and sits besides him. She lays her head in the crook of her elbow, and stares at him.

"Hey," she says.

Cloud inclines his head in her direction; there is a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey." His voice is husky. It's sort of different from when he was nineteen; rougher, deeper. But it's still _his_ voice and it calms her. There's something about being alone with him that's familiar, comforting, yet disorienting. She breaks eye contact and brings the beer bottle to her lips.

He clears his throat. "Sorry for dropping unannounced."

"No, you're not." She can't help it; her eyes drift back to him.

He shrugs, unapologetic. "Right."

"Hey, it's okay. I mean, you kind of freaked me out for a second—"

He scoffs. " _Kind of_?"

She doesn't know what to say for a moment. They used to argue for nothing, back in the beginning. They bickered a lot when they were together. The sarcastic reply is on the tip of her tongue, and she almost gives in. But, hell, they're adults now, trying to mend a broken relationship, and if he can take a step forward, so can she.

"Shit, Cloud, I'm sorry, you just really took me by surprise." His expression is curious at her words. It's not what he expected. She raises her head, leans it against her hands. "It's…I didn't expect it, that's all."

They both stare at the wall. "Didn't expect I'd drop by, or that I'd actually try?"

"Both," she replies honestly.

He surprises her when he laughs. "Yeah, I guessed. That's why I came by tonight."

She swivels in her seat, staring him down, eyes narrowed. "Still stubborn, I see."

But he doesn't bite. He avoids her gaze, pushing his glass away. "I meant it when I said I was back. I want to show you that."

There's a pause. Tifa isn't taken aback. She's had two hours to digest what his presence means. Still, he fidgets a little when she doesn't answer immediately.

"Okay," she says.

Cloud's face is carefully blank when he looks at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiles.

"Okay." He runs a hand through his hair. "Okay." To her surprise, he mirrors her smile. "Fuck, I've been stressing for days."

"What, you're telling me you didn't plan in advance?"

"Fuck, no. I made up my mind thirty minutes before driving here."

She rolls her eyes. "Typical."

Twenty minutes later, she kicks him out. Once she's in her bed not long after, her phone lights up with a new message.

 _Thank you_.

She grins in the dark. But all she types back is, _Go to sleep!_

It doesn't take long after that night for things to change.

They hang out more during their nights off. He starts to come over to her apartment sometimes, and they have quiet dinners and watch shitty movies. Once a week, she helps Denzel with his homework, and he starts to come over to assist her. They both haven't been to school in years, and they're not much help, but it's really just an excuse to hang out with Denzel on both their parts.

The first time Denzel sees Cloud in her apartment, he seethes with rage and doesn't speak to his brother the whole night. It makes for an awkward evening, and it all comes to a head when Cloud announces he's leaving for the night. Denzel doesn't actually _say_ anything, but his scoff and the way he slams his textbook on the kitchen table speaks volume. Tifa sees the defeated look in Cloud's eyes, and before he can leave, she shakes her head and marches to where Denzel is sitting.

"Denzel…"

" _What?_ " His glare is non-effective. She's basically raised him those last few years. She's seen worst.

"I know you're hurt—don't roll your eyes—but Cloud is back, and you have to accept that."

"No, I don't."

She sucks in a breath. Releases it. "If you can't accept him back into _your_ life, then accept that he's back in mine."

At this, Denzel jumps to his feet, and his voice is full of disbelief. "He _left_ you! He left _us_!"

"Denzel—"

"You were _destroyed_ after—"

"He's trying his best—"

"You can't believe he's staying!"

"I do!"

At this, Denzel's eyes go wide, and that's when she realizes she shouted. She never shouts at him.

"Look, kid, I'm sorry for—"

"Save it," he hisses as he walks past her and goes into her room. The door shuts softly behind him.

It takes her a minute to calm down. When she turns around, Cloud isn't the entryway anymore, and her stomach twists. But then, he pokes his head around the wall. She goes to meet him, and motions at him to step into the hallway. It's small and cramped, but with the door closed, she knows Denzel won't hear them talk.

"Sorry," she begins, voice soft, "if I had known how he was going to react, I wouldn't have proposed you join us."

Cloud shuffles, hands in his jeans' pockets. He keeps his eyes on a spot above her shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Tifa."

She shrugs, because, yeah, it isn't. Actions have consequences, and he's reaping his right now.

"Fuck, he really hates me." He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle.

She considers lying, but there's no point. "He hates you right now. But he'll come around. Just…keep being present, you know?"

She's watching him closely, and she spots the exact moment when all the fight goes out of him. He stumbles back into the wall, head titled back, eyes closed.

"I'm so sorry." His voice is fragile, hoarse, and it makes her heart constrict.

"Cloud…"

"So fucking sorry, Tifa."

She moves without thinking. Since he's been back, they've barely had any physical contact. They're slowly rebuilding their friendship. Physical contact reminds her too much of _before_ , and she knows they're at a stage where she can't let the lines blur. But seeing him like this breaks something in her, and she can't help but rely on instinct. So she approaches him slowly, frames his face in her hands, and brings his forehead to hers. His eyes open, and the look in them is something she can't let herself think about.

"I know," she whispers.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. His breaths are shaky.

"I _know_. I meant what I said to Denzel. About you staying."

She almost jumps when she feels his hands on her back, fingers digging into her spine, thumbs rubbing along her ribcage.

"I don't want to leave."

"I know."

"I won't. _I won't_. I promise, Tifa, I…Fuck." And then, his hand is tangled in her hair, his arm is around her waist, his face in the crook of her neck, and her arms are wrapped tight around his shoulders. She can't help but breathe him in. It feels like coming home.

But it doesn't last long; Cloud releases her a bit abruptly, and she would feel offended if it wasn't for the way he stares at her.

They don't speak as she walks with him down the stairs and stops at his car. She can see he's struggling with his words, so she spares him, saying a soft, "Goodnight," and he nods in return. But she can't resist laying a kiss on his cheek, lingering longer than she should. Her lips burn as she turns on her heels without looking at him.

The next time they see each other, they both keep their hands to themselves, like they have a mutual unspoken agreement. Sure, there are casual touches here and there, but they never feel anything more than friendly or helpful.

Ten months after Cloud has returned, she hands him a key to her apartment. His face when she shoves it into his palm is priceless, but all he says is _thank you_ with a grateful smile.

Her decision, she tells herself, isn't selfish. Honestly. Cloud lives on the other side of the city, in a horrible neighbourhood, with two roommates who are both supreme assholes. One is always on drugs, and the other is a pervert. She'd come over once, and had freaked out when she'd seen the lines of coke on the coffee table. Yeah, she'd smoked some pot in high school with Vincent, but Cloud, with his mom's history with prescription drugs, had never been into it. But he'd been away for so long, so who knew what his stance on drugs was anymore. But then, a guy came out of the kitchen, sat down on the couch, and started snorting. She had felt marginally better. Until she moved with Cloud towards his bedroom in the back, and a naked guy came out of the bathroom. She froze, and Cloud bumped into her. The guy just smirked and gripped his dick, and that's all she saw before Cloud almost carried her into his room, yelling at his roommate.

So, yeah, it's not _entirely_ selfish if she doesn't want him to be surrounded with his assholes roommates, right?

Her apartment might be shitty because it hasn't been renovated in who-knows-how-long, but it's in a nice neighbourhood and _thank god_ she lives alone. It's only normal that they'd hang out at her place.

She knows he tries his best not to be intrusive. At first, he still buzzes when he comes over, but over the course of the following weeks, he starts using his key. Sometimes, she'll go downstairs at the bar to work, and he's still watching TV, but is gone once her shift is over. They've lived together before, although briefly, and he knows what pisses her off. So he always washes the dishes before leaving, and picks up whatever take out leftovers they left in the living room, because yeah, she's messy, but she's not dirty.

It evolves, though. He starts to leave some clothes over for the times he crashes on the couch. He brings a toothbrush. She starts to buy his favourite cereals so he'll stop grumbling like an old man in the mornings (or evenings—the guy doesn't have a proper diet).

It's Denzel who notices, of course. His relationship with Cloud has been slowly mending, but when he sees the additional toothbrush, he loses it. It's not a fight, not really. They've had the Cloud Was An Asshole But He's Trying fight more times than Tifa can count. This is different. Worse. Denzel shuts her out, doesn't come over for a month. It's Cloud who brings them back together. Neither of the brothers will tell her what was said, but she gathers it wasn't pretty. She doesn't care. The hug she shares with Denzel is fierce, and she's just glad they're talking again.

It goes on for a while. Life is good, she thinks. Better than it's been in a long time.

That is, until she calls Cloud in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, and she realizes she trusts him again.

Because once she admits she trusts him, everything changes.

—

This time, it starts with a date.

Cloud has been back for nearly two years now. He's her best friend, and she wonders how she could have loved him so much when she was younger in such a short amount of time. She loves him still. But it's a different kind of love—less rocky, more honest. She knows there will always be a part of her that will be in love with him, but it's quiet and always shoved in the back of her mind.

He's the first person she tells once Ray asks her on a date. Ray seems like a nice guy; he's a regular at the bar, is very polite, cute enough but with a killer smile. That's exactly what she tells Cloud as they're sprawled on her couch, some alcohol in their system, watching a hockey game.

She sees the way he grimaces once she's done talking. But he says, "He sounds alright."

Which is obviously code for _what a tool_.

Cloud has liked some of her dates before, though he's always been reserved around them. The truth is, her and Cloud are close. Probably closer than they ought to be, what's with their past history, but it's that same history that makes their bond so strong. Since that night when he rushed over and stayed over in her bed, things are different. Tifa thinks it's a good different. Yeah, they still argue like they did years ago, and they both can be sarcastic assholes, but the friendship they've found and forged eclipses everything else. The biggest change is how casual they are with physical contact now. Cloud, especially. She's not _that_ surprised—when they were together, he had always been big on touching her, always finding an excuse to. But now there's no sexual undertone, and if she's honest, she loves the attention. It grounds her, calms her.

Cloud refrains from touching her when her dates are present. They'll go out at a bar, and instead of resting his hand on her back as he leans over the counter and orders for both of them, he'll stand far enough that she can't feel his heat radiating. Or they'll be hanging out at her apartment with some friends and her date will be there, and Cloud will sit in the armchair instead of next to her.

She can't say she actually likes it, but she does appreciate. She doesn't do the same, though. She can't help it.

On the rare occasions Cloud will bring a date, Tifa finds herself gravitating towards him, and really, if Tifa touches him, Cloud won't abstain. And she knows it.

It didn't take long to realize she was a little jealous. She's never been a jealous person, so it's hard to pinpoint _why_ she's jealous. But she's his first love, and she can be selfish at times, and she knows that, just like she knows she'll always love Cloud, and he will always love her. That she has a special place in his heart, and it's not something she wants to lose.

Cloud has only ever been in love with her. He was drunk when he told her, and she got drunk right after his confession.

So she makes it harder on his girlfriends because she's afraid.

It's not like their attempts at relationships last very long; the longest either of them have experienced is two months in the timespan they've reconnected. Tifa knows why hers fail. She can be a bitch when she doesn't know someone, and she has, like, a million defense mechanisms. She has difficulties connecting with people if it's not on a superficial level, so she breaks up with her partners before it gets ugly, or they break up with her when they get fed up. It's different for Cloud, she thinks. He never talks about his hook ups or his failed relationships, the complete opposite of her, so at first she tried guessing, but gave up soon enough. He'd tell her if he wanted to.

That's why it comes at a surprise when Cloud suggests she invite Ray for movie night with friends. They're not a big gang, and they're mostly Cloud's friends, but she feels comfortable around them, and it's just _nice_ to have friends again. She misses Vincent, whom she sees less and less as he's in his last semester of graduate studies, meaning he's basically become a hermit until he's done. She can respect that, but in the mean time, she'll enjoy the company of Laura, Ivan, Ollie, and even Ashton, who can be an absolute douchebag.

They're all gathered in the living room when Ray buzzes and she lets him in. It's their fourth date; it's almost been a month, and Tifa will admit that it's going pretty good. She likes Ray. Her friends seem to like him, too, so that's a bonus.

They eat and drink and watch a movie. It's a normal movie night, but Tifa can't get into it. She has those nights where everything comes flooding back. As Ashton and Laura fight over the next movie, Tifa goes into the kitchen to gather more alcohol. She hesitates for half a second before putting the beer back in the fridge and grabbing something stronger. She's already taken two shots when she feels someone behind her. She wipes at her tears.

"I'm okay, Cloud."

"Uh, it's Ray." He sounds unsure, and for a moment, so is she. But she remembers that, _of course,_ Cloud would be fucking distant since she brought a date.

"Oh, sorry." She turns around. "I'm okay." She gives him a small smile.

He frowns, and she would have thought it was adorable any other time. "You sure?"

She's about to answer, but stops when she hears the sound of new movie starting.

"You want to go back?" Ray asks. "Or we can go in your room, if you want?" There's nothing sexual in his voice, and she's glad for it. He really is a good guy, but he's not who she wants to see right now. Except Cloud is still in the living room, basically ignoring her, so she swallows her tears, and nods.

"Yeah, let's go back."

She grabs the beer she had abandoned, and makes her way with Ray to the couch.

But her friends chose the fucking _Breakfast Club_ , and it's a movie about high school and friendships, and she can't watch that right now, she just can't.

So she whispers an excuse and almost runs to the bathroom; she feels like she's going to puke. She's almost in the room when she hears footsteps behind her; she doesn't know who to expect anymore, and really, she wants to be left alone. So she closes the door, but an arm shoots out, preventing her.

It's Cloud. He's just staring at her blankly.

"Get out," she whispers.

More footsteps, more hesitant. It's Ray, she knows.

"Tifa, let me in," Cloud says.

"No."

"Babe, come on," he adds, voice gone so soft, she knows she's going to cave. But not immediately. It's the "babe" that weakens her, and he's more than aware of it. It reminds her of that time when they barely knew each other and fought and he called her that a few times, but now it's different. She's the only one he calls that, and it's just another thing that's _hers_.

"Hey, she said no," Ray jumps in. He's taller than Cloud, but the latter doesn't even look at him.

"I got this, man, just go watch the movie." Cloud's tone is more than dismissive, and Ray looks appropriately offended.

It dawns on her that the others paused the movie. The fuckers are eavesdropping. It's that, more than anything else that prompts her to open the door. Cloud waltzes in, and goes to close the door in Ray's face, but Tifa stops him.

"Go watch the movie, Ray," she says, a lot nicer than Cloud. She waits until Ray nods and leaves before closing the door, and then, for the noise of the movie before looking at Cloud.

He's staring back, hands in pockets, the sleeves of his flannel rolled up, his white undershirt stained with car grease no matter how many times he washes it. She grips the counter behind her. Her bathroom is small; there's barely a feet between them. She wants to hug him, to feel the comfort of his touch, but she's a little pissed. She wants him to act first.

It's hard when his blank expression shifts into a concerned one now that they're alone.

"Tell me," he says.

It's a routine they've developed. Whenever the other is visibly upset, they push until the other breaks. They both have walls that go all the way to the moon, and even around each other, it's not easy to lower them. Especially for her. That's why she wanted to noise of the TV; because she knows how messy this is gonna get, but it's their way, and she wouldn't change it for an easy one.

So she shakes her head.

"Tifa, tell me."

She knows how this is gonna go, because it's happened many times before. His voice is firm, but gentle; demanding, but patient.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. She notices the shift in his attitude; he steps closer, drops his hands on the counter next to hers, caging her in. This is new. She's not sure what to expect. Cloud drops his head on her shoulder, stopping before making contact. He's not touching her, but fuck, she wants him to.

"I know what this is about."

Her voice is hoarse when she answers. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I saw your face when Laura put on the movie."

She tilts her face back, eyes blinking rapidly to prevent the tears from falling. His breath is warm on her neck.

"You miss them?" She asks, because what else can she say.

"Yeah."

She's not sure where it comes from, but the anger that flares up inside her makes her want to be vicious.

"You think this is what it's about?" She hisses.

She feels him stiffen and draw back, but her eyes are still glued to the ceiling.

"Tifa…" His voice is wary.

She knows he'll hate her for what she's about to say. Because they were his family, and no matter how it ended, they will always be.

"I hate driving past a high school. Sometimes I'll shake because the memories start coming back, did you know that?" He does; he'd brought her down from a panic attack once. But he lets her speak. "I'm afraid to go up to a policeman. That's fucked up, Cloud."

He's as far as he possibly can now, his fists clenched at his sides. Still, he stays silent.

She wants him to say something. She wants a fight. And she knows how she'll get one; she also knows how much it's gonna hurt.

"When I had that nightmare a year ago, I told you I didn't know what I dreamt about." She looks at him; her features are schooled in an expressionless mask. "I know what it was about because I've had it before and I still do."

She pauses, tells herself it's for dramatic effect, but she's really just trying to keep her emotions under control.

"That's how he tried to kill me, by strangling me."

Cloud flinches like he's been hit.

This is something they've never talked about save for the night he left Nibelheim. She's never given him the details.

She spat the words. "He tried to rape me first, but you know that, since you _already knew_ about the murders."

He finally breaks. "Tifa, shut up, okay? Just…stop it."

"He had my hands above my head, his were down my pants—"

"Shut up, Tifa."

His hand is covering his mouth and this time it's him who looks like he'll vomit.

"I fought hard enough, I blacked out—"

"Tifa…"

"Both hands around my throat, a knee on my chest, he was _killing me_ —"

When he speaks next, he shouts. "I _know_! I _fucking_ know! Fuck, would you stop!"

She doesn't flinch, doesn't startle at his raised voice. She's been expecting it. It just gives her an excuse to raise hers. Faintly, she's aware that the movie's not playing anymore and that everyone can hear them now.

"No you don't! You don't know shit, Cloud, because I've never told you!"

"I knew enough!"

His reply enrages her, and she almost screams. " _That was the fucking problem!_ "

"What the fuck did you want me to do!"

She pushes him and he almost falls in the bathtub. "You know, you asshole!"

He visibly deflates. "We've talked about this before."

They have, but only skimmed the surface. "Oh, really? How many years ago was that, Cloud? Was it before Aerith died?"

"You're crossing a line, Tifa."

Their voices had died down a little, but she starts yelling again. "Am I? What about when _my father_ died and you could have stopped that! Where was the fucking line, then, Cloud?"

He stays silent. There's no right answer here, and he knows it.

"What about when you _left_?" The little control she had over her emotions slips, and the panic, the fear, the _pain_ rush through her, and she almost shrieks. "You left me! You left when I needed you! I needed you so much, and I asked you to stay, and _you fucking left_!"

Panic courses through her veins, and her voice lowers in volume, but is still loud enough that everyone can hear her. She's tearing everything apart. "Oh my god, I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I let you back into my life." Cloud's eyes are glassy and he tries to speak, but she can't let him. She can't. "You're just gonna pack up and leave, aren't you? I'll wake up one day and you'll be fucking gone! I—I can't believe I—" She's out of breath, and she rushes for the toilet. She vomits, her knees buckle and she knows she's gonna fall, but Cloud's arms are around her before she can hit the ground. He lowers her slowly as she keeps emptying her stomach, holding her hair back until it stops. She gets to her feet, and goes to brush her teeth. Cloud flushes the toilet. It's when she spits out the toothpaste that reality hits her hard.

Cloud won't look at her, but she can clearly see his face in the mirror. His eyes are red, his jaw keeps clenching. The apartment is silent.

He doesn't say a word as he goes to exit the bathroom, but before his hand is even on the doorknob, she starts shaking and sobbing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." It's all she can say through the tears. It's catching up with her, everything she said, and she knew this fight was a long time coming, but she hates herself for it.

She feels his presence as he comes closer. His proximity breaks something in her, and she collapses against him. He catches her, but his touch is distant, informal. Still, he picks her up when he sees she won't be able to walk the few meters to her room. She wraps herself around him; legs tight around his waist, her face hidden in his neck. He walks her to her bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights, and crawls into her bed. He means to leave her alone, she can tell, so she clings to him even harder. He tugs at her arm, trying to slacken her grip, but she doesn't let go. He's not using his full strength, otherwise she'd be off him in second.

He sighs. She thinks for a moment that he's gonna force off him, but he actually falls back into her bed. She's sprawled all over him; she doesn't move.

She's not sure how long they stay like that. She knows it takes a long time for Cloud to bring a hand up into her hair, and she almost cries again when he does. Yeah, she's lying all over him, but he kept his arms at his sides.

At some point, she hears the others leave. They don't have a key, so one of them will have to get up eventually, but she delays.

It's been over an hour when she thinks Cloud has fallen asleep. Tentatively, she sits up, straddling his stomach. His eyes are closed, but he opens them when he feels her move.

They don't say anything.

She doesn't tell him she didn't mean it, because she did.

He doesn't say they'll be fine, because who knows when they will be.

She ends up getting up, locking the door, and when she comes back, Cloud is still in her bed, but he's on the edge, his back is to her. She slips in, not bothering to change into pyjamas, but she stays on her side.

He's gone when she wakes up. There's a note on her nightstand. It just says he had to work. It's Saturday, and he only works until one in the afternoon. So she takes a shower, tries to eat, and at 12:25, she drives to his apartment. His drug addict roommate lets her in; they don't talk other than pleasantries.

It's 13:30, and Cloud still isn't back. She's taken residency in the kitchen. She jumps when the door open, but it's just the pervert, who leers at her. He hits on her for a few minutes, until she snaps at him. He doesn't seem affected, only laughs and winks at her before going to watch TV and share a joint with his roommate.

By 3PM, Tifa has moved into Cloud's bedroom. He doesn't have a lot of belongings, and she doesn't want to snoop. She considers going on his laptop but ends up lying on his bed, playing a shitty game on her phone.

It's 5PM when the front door opens again. There's some hushed conversation, and she catches Cloud's voice. She sits up on his bed, nervous.

The first thing he says when he spots her is, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

She's taken aback. He seems to realize how that sounded, and advances into the room, throwing his jacket and cap on the bed. "You know I hate when you come over here. I don't like leaving you with these guys."

She's on her feet now, but the bed's between them. She crosses her arms.

"I really wanted to speak to you."

"Could have called."

"Would you have answered?"

"Don't come here when I'm not."

"Well, I thought you finished at one."

He grunts. "Not today."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"What? How long have you been here?"

She looks straight at him. "A little before one."

"For fuck's sakes…" He falls into his desk chair. She can see he wants to be mad at her, but he doesn't comment further on the subject. She goes around the bed and sits down on it so she's facing him.

"Cloud—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Tifa."

Neither does she, but it's not something they can leave hanging, she thinks.

"We should, though."

"Look—I don't want to talk about it. Not today, maybe not this week, okay?" His voice is the same indifferent, dismissive tone he used on Ray last night. "I'll call you."

She ends up leaving after a long, uncomfortable silence, and she lets a few tears fall in her car. She's not even upset about their short conversation. She knows that he needs time to process what she said the other night, and honestly, it's probably better that way since she needs time to process her feelings, but she really wanted to fix this. She's afraid to give him an excuse to leave.

Cloud doesn't call. He doesn't hang out with her, doesn't come over to 7th Heaven to keep her company. He does text her a few times, and it's informal, to a point where she knows he spent 5 minutes typing a 10 words sentence to make it sound that way.

She doesn't see him or hear his voice for three months.

She copes well at first. He needs distance, she can do that. But honestly, it freaks her out, because Cloud left her and it took 4 years for them to see each other again, and it was a fucking coincidence that brought him back. She's scared it means he can handle being away from her for long periods of time. She didn't do well those 4 years, and it's even worse now that she's faced with the prospect of losing his friendship.

So she respects it, for a while. Three months in, she's feeling pissed more than sad. He hasn't answered her _How you doing?_ in four days, and yes she's angry, but she's also worried.

It's a Saturday night when she drives over to his apartment. She almost never has Saturdays off, and those are typically spent with Cloud. The last two she had off, she spent alone. Now she's tired.

There's a party going on once she gets there. It's past 11PM (she might have decided to come over on a whim), and it seems to be in full swing. It's easy for her to just slip inside; she doesn't recognize anybody as she makes her way to Cloud's room. She feels a little awkward for being so dressed down in leggings and an oversized sweater and a messy bun, and some people look at her with a confused expression, and she guesses they might be the less drunk ones.

Someone grabs her wrist just as she's about to open Cloud's room, and it's the pervert. Surprisingly, he looks kind of sober. Guess it makes sense if he's the host. She thinks he'll try to hit on her like usual, so she's surprised when he says, "I wouldn't go in there."

Tifa frowns. "Okay…" She's not stupid. The meaning of his words didn't fly ten feet above her head. But she might kind of be in denial. "I'll wait."

The pervert looks torn, but he hands up dragging her in the kitchen, giving her a beer ("No thanks, I'll just have some water, I drove here"). He leaves her alone after that, but comes back around fifteen minutes later. He stands next to her, playing on his phone.

"Are you his girlfriend?"

She finds it strange that he would ask since it's none of his business, but then again, they _are_ roommates. Curiosity and all that.

"No."

He nods. "Alright. 'Cause I might be a douche, but I don't like cheaters."

She sees Cloud exit his room with a girl in tow just as the pervert (she might feel bad calling him that now) finishes talking. Cloud doesn't see her, just mingles back into the crowd. He's so, so drunk; he's not walking straight.

The jealousy and the hurt spike through her; she clenches her fists at her side, her teeth are gritted together, but she manages to calm down. It's irrational, she tells herself. It really is. Cloud mainly keeps his hook ups and dates to himself, so the most she's ever witnessed is some tame PDA in a bar. There was always a part of her that denied anything _more_ could happen since she never saw it. She knows Cloud is a handsome guy, and being 25 _really_ agrees with him; he's always being hit on. She knows he's gotten laid in the last two years, she's not stupid, _fuck_. But being confronted with reality is like being drenched in ice water. It's a wake up call that, yeah, he might be her best friend now, but there are clearly _more_ unresolved feelings on her end than she cared to admit.

There's really nothing she can do at the moment, so she leaves abruptly, drives back to her apartment, tries to sleep, ends up watching TV and falling asleep at 4AM on the couch.

Two weeks later, she's the one who gets drunk. Ashton is, to her shock, the only one of their (her?) friends who still talks to her regularly. Laura, Ivan and Ollie were always more on Cloud's side, but they still text her once in a while. So it's her and Ashton at a bar on a Friday night when she's not working. She's tipsy when she decides to invite Ray.

She's still seeing Ray. He's her longest relationship in years. He's way more into her than she is into him, but then again, the fight with Cloud means her relationship with Ray isn't her priority. She wishes it could be.

Ray gets there within twenty minutes; he walked over and doesn't live far. The three of them take a shot together. She's been playing wingwoman to Ashton for an hour. The guy doesn't need it. He's hot and has the most game she's ever seen. But it's fun to do, it's distracting, and though she's really bad at it, Ashton lets her, laughs with her. He reminds her of Reno and Zack, so she might have drank more than intended to forget. She finally finds him a girl he seems to like, so he goes over. Ray takes the opportunity to drag her to the dance floor.

It's fun for a while. Tifa doesn't drink much for the following hour, enjoying the state she's in. But it's when they both go back to the bar to get Ray a drink that it spirals down. He's in that state between drunk and sober where he spits out whatever he's thinking. She doesn't notice until they're walking back to their table where Ashton is now with _two_ girls.

"How's Cloud?"

The question is initially innocent. Ray is aware that Cloud is (was?) her best friend, that they are (were?) close; he knows they have a history, but Tifa has never given him details. He doesn't know they used to date; he doesn't know what happened in Nibelheim. She'd rather keep it that way. So it all seems normal that her boyfriend would ask how her estranged best friend was doing.

"Still a dick," is her answer.

But there's a hitch in her voice that Ray catches on.

"Something happen?"

Tifa is vaguely aware that Ashton is listening. She doesn't look at either of the guys because the alcohol in her system means her emotions are plastered on her face.

"No. Yeah. Yeah, but it doesn't matter."

Ray stays silent for a beat. But then, "You should just cut him off."

Ashton twists his head to look at her boyfriend, and lets out a full-bellied laugh. It was clearly meant to piss off Ray, and it works.

"Something funny?"

"Yeah, man. He's her best friend and she should just _cut him off_ because they had a fight?" He keeps on laughing. It's mocking. "They've had worse."

Tifa's always had a suspicion that Ashton knows more than he lets on about her and Cloud. He was the first of Cloud's friends she met. Her eyes rise up to meet his, and she knows he's got her back.

Ray turns back to her. "Your relationship with him isn't normal."

She scoffs. "Probably."

He looks shocked she would admit it, but keeps on. "That night he didn't act like a _friend_. You let him shut me out."

"Ray, I barely knew you then. I've known Cloud for years."

He takes a long swallow of his drink. "You're more intimate with him than with me."

It's an accusation she knew she was going to face one day, but she really hadn't expected it to come from Ray since, well, they've been together for over four months, and she hasn't spoken to Cloud during three of those.

"You're more worried about where your relationship with him is headed than ours. You get this hopeful expression whenever your phone rings. I'm not dumb, Tifa."

"It's complicated," she mumbles.

"How about you explain it to me, then? Uh?"

"Lay off, Ray." It's Ashton, who only confirms her suspicions. He totally knows.

But Tifa's had enough of this shitty situation, so she steals Ray's drink, downs it, and stares in his eyes.

"How about you just leave?"

Ray's already on his feet; he's angry, but his voice is calm. "Call me when you realize that asshole isn't worth it." He turns on his heels, and leaves the bar, and that's the last Tifa sees of him.

This whole conversation has left a bitter taste in her mouth. It's not the first time she breaks up with someone when they get too close, but it's the first time someone calls her out on her feelings for Cloud. Honestly, she doesn't want to think about him anymore than she wants to think about Ray right now. She just wants to get drunk.

Ashton matches her drink for drink, having left the two girls behind. They get fucking wasted too quickly, and it's not that late when they leave and take a cab together. Ashton is dropped off first, and he gives her a sloppy drunk hug before climbing out and almost falling flat on his face. He's worse off than she is, actually, since she had stopped drinking at some point during the night before starting again.

The cabbie asks for her address, and she answers something she _knows_ isn't her address, but doesn't think twice about it. She's not even surprised when Cloud's apartment building comes into view ten minutes later. She just pays the driver and presses on the buzzer three times before realizing she's ringing the wrong flat. Once she gets the right one, it doesn't take long for one of the guys to answer.

"Yeah?" The distorted voice isn't Cloud's. It sounds like the pervert.

"I want to see Cloud." Her words come out all garbled.

He lets her in. Their apartment is on the second floor, and she has to lean against the wall twice because her head is spinning. The pervert is standing in the doorway a disbelieving look etched all over his face.

She beams at him. "Hey, pervert!"

He moves so she can stumble in. "It's Ben, actually."

She gives him a thumbs up. "Nice name. I'm Tifa."

"I know."

"So where's the asshole?" She asks while taking off her jacket clumsily. She's wearing a top that shows a lot of cleavage, and Ben's eyes immediately stray to her boobs.

"Which one?" He deadpans.

Tifa kicks off her heels, hitting him with one by accident. She collapses in the kitchen chair.

"Cloud."

"He's out."

She nods seriously. She has no idea what time it is, or if Cloud will come back tonight, but she wants to see him. Fuck, she really wants to see him.

Once it becomes clear she's not leaving, Ben brings her some water, food, and aspirin. She's a little touched, honestly. If only he could stop staring at her chest and her ass. She sobers up a bit; she doesn't get sick when she drinks, she's just lucky like that. Ben leaves her alone after a while, and she decides to abandon the kitchen for Cloud's room. She gathers her discarded heels and jacket, and dumps them near Cloud's bed. She takes out her phone and sees it's 00:45, and damn, she thought it was later than that, but it's true her and Ashton got to the bar early.

Her clothes are tight and uncomfortable, so she shucks her jeans off, takes of her top and bra, and rummages around for one of Cloud's t-shirt. Cloud's not a big guy; he's not that tall and he works out, but he's lean rather than beefy, so the shirt is big on her, but it doesn't swallow her either. She brings the collar to her face and sniffs it, but is disappointed when it smells like laundry soap.

She snoops around this time. There's nothing interesting to find, but she just wants to be surrounded by him. She misses him.

The only object that wasn't there last time is a photo frame that's face down in his desk, next to his laptop. She drops in his swivelling chair and grabs it. It's a two-pictures frame. She expects it to be pictures of him and Aerith, or him and Denzel, or him and Zack.

But both pictures are of Cloud and her. One is from high school, she can tell because, fuck, they look so much younger. They're sitting in the bleachers at school; she's looking at something else, he's looking at her. They're not touching, and the photo is a candid one. She has no idea where on their timeline this was taken. The other one, she remembers. It's a selfie they took maybe six months ago, at the start of summer. Only their faces and shoulders are in the frame, and they're smiling at the camera. Cloud doesn't like selfies, but he'd relented after much pestering. It's not visible in the pictures, but one of his arms is around her waist, hand splayed over her exposed belly. She had been wearing one of those long crop tops that had risen up when she'd gotten on her tiptoes so their faces could be level. She remembers that day perfectly.

She takes the frame with her as she collapses on the bed, hugging it to her chest. It hurts to look at the pictures, so she doesn't, but it's a reminder that Cloud is her friend, that he loves her, that, if he doesn't want to look at it but doesn't throw it away, it's because he's hurting, too.

After a while, her grasp on the picture frame slackens; she puts it on the nightstand. She drifts off. She's floating in a space between sleep and awareness when she hears the door of the room open. Her eyes have difficulty opening, and she sits up slowly. Cloud has his back to her; he's kissing a girl. Tifa doesn't even feel jealous; she's sleepy, still a bit drunk, and she wants Cloud to herself right now. She wants the stranger gone.

"Cloud…?" Her voice is husky.

Cloud jumps away from the girl at the sound; he whirls around to stare at her, confused. His eyes find her, and the confusion is replaced by blankness. The girl looks outraged. Tifa knows how this looks. She's made her presence known on purpose after all. The stranger storms out silently; Cloud doesn't spare her a glance, he just approaches Tifa warily, sitting down on the edge of the bed close to her. Tifa falls back on the bed, fully aware of how she looks with her hair spread over the pillow, his shirt having ridden up, legs bare. He's always liked her in his clothes.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is careful. She makes note that he isn't drunk.

She keeps it simple and true. "I miss you."

"So you sneaked into my bed?"

"Because I miss _you_."

It's as she speaks it, that she realizes it's true in more ways than one. It's probably because she's drunk, really, but she doesn't just miss having him at her side. She misses his touch, the connection they had; she misses sex with him, even if it's been _years_ and they were just teenagers. She misses the closeness, the way his hands could get rough, how his voice would get low and filthy, and fuck, now she _wants him_.

She grabs his left hand, the one that's closest to her, and brings it to her shirt-covered belly. He grips the fabric, bunching it up. He knows her too well not to guess what she's doing.

"Tifa, you've been drinking."

She just nods, doesn't trust herself to speak right now. She moves his hand to her thigh, sees the way his breath hitches as she drags it under his shirt until it rests right below her breasts. The skin on skin contact feels amazing, it feels surreal and grounding all at once. He's completely frozen. One of her hands lets go of his, and she drags hers fingers along his arms until she reaches his shoulder. She has to arch her back a little, so his hand shifts slightly. She grips the collar of his flannel, and drags him down. He could resist, she knows he could, but he lets her lower him until their foreheads are touching. She twists her hand in the hair at the base of his neck, and he sighs, eyes closing. She releases his wrist, and his hand stays on her abdomen; she brings hers to his neck.

She wants him to break first. "I miss you," she whispers. They're so close, all she has to do is tilt her chin up to kiss him. "I miss you touching me. I miss having you inside me."

His voice is barely audible. "Tifa—" He brings his other arm to lay besides her head, as if he can't hold himself up anymore.

"I miss the way you'd kiss me when I came. Do you remember?"

"Babe—"

Her breathing gets heavier, and his hand moves, brushing the underside of her breast. She lets out a sound between a whimper and a sigh. It seems to snap him out of it, and he sits up, but she's no quitter, so she follow him. His hand slips out beneath his shirt, but it falls to her outer thigh and stays there, like he can't really stop touching her. It's a small victory, but she'll take it. She has to angle her head backwards to stare into his eyes. It doesn't last long because the emotions swirling in his eyes make it hard for her to focus, so she leans forward until her face is hidden in his shoulder. She drags his hand on her leg to her inner thigh, and that's when he jumps off the bed.

He starts muttering and rubs his hands all over his face. He turns to look at her, and he swallows. She knows how she looks; shirt rumpled over her thighs, chest heaving, and she probably has a fuck-me face going on.

He broke, and that's what she wanted. She knows Cloud. She'd been drinking so he'd never make a move. But now she also knows he wants her, that she affects him, and that's what she wanted.

He exits the bedroom, still mumbling. Tifa burrows under his covers to sleep. He won't come back into the room, she's sure. She falls asleep.

It's almost eleven when she wakes up. She doesn't feel that good, but she's not sick. There are sounds coming from the kitchen, but no TV, no conversations. She thinks they're alone.

She goes to the bathroom, freshens up a bit, and considers putting on clothes, but decides against. She walks into the kitchen quietly, and sure enough, there is Cloud, washing dishes in sweatpants and a T-shirt, barefoot. He barely reacts when she makes her presence known by jumping on the counter.

"Good morning," she says.

He gives her a tight smile. "Hey."

"Sleep well?"

Cloud raises his eyebrows, and looks at her all _Really?_ But he doesn't bite. "You should change. The others could come in anytime."

"Maybe."

"Tifa, come on."

He walks towards her, and she takes the opportunity to wrap her legs around his hips, bringing him flush to the counter. He regains his balance by putting his hands flat on either side of her hips. She leans back, face all innocent. He doesn't move.

" _Tifa_."

"Yes?"

"You're with Ray."

She doesn't bother correcting him immediately. "How would you know? You haven't talked to me in months."

He looks a little guilty when he says. "Ashton."

She tightens her legs around him, and he grunts. "Would have been easier for you to just _call_."

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, and she knows it's genuine. "I didn't know what to do."

"With me?"

He shakes his head. "With myself."

They stare at each other, and it's over like that. Maybe they'll talk about it later, but she's forgiven him and he's forgiven her, and she wants to move on from the ugliness of the last months.

"Ray and I broke up."

He tenses.

"Figured I should tell you before Ashton does."

He moves a hand, and she thinks he's going to push her away. But he gently wraps her hair around his fist, forcing her head back. She always loved it when he did that. His eyes are fixed on hers.

"You never answered my question," she breathes out. Her heart is beating so fast, she bets he can hear it.

"Yeah?"

"Hm. I asked if you remember." She knows he does now, but she wants confirmation.

She never gets it because Ben suddenly barges into the kitchen, startling them; they don't move apart, but the moment is shattered. She glares at Ben, who smirks at her.

"Oh, hello."

Cloud untangles himself from her grip. "Hey." He moves in front of her, like he's shielding her from his roommate's view. Tifa huffs and jumps down the counter, leaving both guys in the kitchen.

"Holy _shit_ , man."

"Fuck off, Ben."

When she emerges, clothes in place, they're sitting on the couch playing video games. Cloud gets up when he sees her.

"Are you leaving?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah. Tuesday?"

She used to never work on Tuesdays since it was the day they would have quiet dinners, but things have changed over the last months.

"I work."

"Oh. Okay. I can come at the bar if you want?"

She smiles. "If you want."

"I do."

"Okay. See you then."

She kisses him on the cheek and leaves.

She does see him on Tuesday. She doesn't know what she expected exactly, but it wasn't _this_.

Cloud acts like nothing happened. Like she didn't try to seduce him, like he didn't try to kiss her. She's pissed, but at the same time, she thinks it might be better this way. They need to be friends again. But she tries to hide it, although Cloud notices because she's never been able to hide from him.

It's March when she decides she's had enough. She figures she's waited long enough; two months have passed, she knows what she wants. Cloud barely flirts with other girls who hit on him anymore, and she's pretty sure he hasn't gotten laid in a while. She doesn't go in with a plan, just decides to play it by ear. She'll find the perfect moment when it shows up.

And it does one night she's not working and, for some weird reason, they're still hanging out at 7th Heaven anyway. She wanted to be mad when their friends suggested it since _Fuck, Tifa, the beer is cheap_. She didn't protest; she's just happy that Laura, Ollie and Ivan are hanging out with her again. It's the first time in months that they're all together.

So it's a nice night out, and she does manage to get them some free drinks since it's not Maddy or Barrett behind the counter, it's Hugh and Arlene, and they like her. She and Cloud barely drink that night, she's not sure why, but they have fun nonetheless. If anything, she's bordering on tipsy, and he's not even there.

It's when they're playing pool that Tifa makes a move. She tells herself, _this is the moment_ , and it's not even an hour to closing time. Ivan and Ollie left already, so it's just her and Cloud with Ashton and Laura. The latter hates pool, so she and Ashton settle on the sideline to watch Tifa and Cloud battle it out. They've played pool together before; they're both pretty good at it and can get really competitive.

It's warm in the bar; their jackets are at their table. She knows she looks cute because she made an effort to, like she always does when they go out. She's wearing a tight lace up top on that does wonders for her boobs, and she's already caught Cloud staring twice. Then again, she's got a great rack, and he always loved it. Such a guy, she thinks.

People start filing out slowly, the atmosphere is more relaxed; Ashton and Laura are preparing to leave. Tifa tells herself she can do this as she watches Cloud get ready to take a shot. She gets close to him, pressing her chest into his arm, and whispers, "You sure you got this?"

He gets the shot, smirking in her direction. "I think I do."

But she just plasters her flirty smile on, twirls the cue, and keeps on playing. She ties her hair up in a messy bun, and Cloud stares. Yeah, she got this. She even pulls a classic and leans down in front of him so he has a view of her ass. He never reacts, and to be honest, she didn't expect him to. Not in public anyways. The only time he touches her is when he walks behind her and caresses her neck; it's a ghost of touch that lasts a second, but it takes a lot out of her not to shiver. In return, she winds her hand in the hair at the base of his neck when he sinks a ball, and tells him, "Good one." She's close, almost completely pressed against his back, and she can sense the tension radiating from his body.

They're alone with Hugh and Arlene, who are almost done closing up. They're down to the winning shot, and it's her turn. Her coworkers are in the back, getting their jackets; they're letting her finish this—she does live right above the bar after all. She's still lining up when they both tell her goodnight and leave. She shouts a _thank you_ , _have a good night, be safe_ , and then goes back to her shot when she hears the door slam behind them and the lock turn.

She wins, straightening up and turning around with a huge smile. Cloud's not smiling, he's just staring at her with a heat in his eyes she's been longing for. She lays down the cue and hops on the pool table.

"So…what do I get for winning?"

He gets in front of her slowly, running his hands along her legs, opening them and stepping in between. His grip is possessive, and she thinks she might bruise.

"What do you want?" He murmurs.

"You," she answers simply.

The corners of his mouth lift up and he wraps a hand around her neck.

"You've already got me." She wants to ask since when, but he doesn't let her speak. "You've always had me."

He goes in to kiss her, but she stops him. "Why now?"

"Guess I needed time to think. Your little stunt two months ago kind of helped."

"You've been thinking about this for a long time?"

"Yeah. Now, would you stop talking?"

She huffs. "Sorry?"

"I've been waiting for everyone to leave so I can get my mouth on you." He smirks.

She blinks. "Please do."

He finally kisses her. It's different from before, but also still the same. His kiss is rough, demanding; he licks her lips, and she opens her mouth. He leaves a trail of kisses down her neck until he settles at the junction between her neck and shoulder, and starts biting and sucking, and she thinks it'll leave a mark, but she couldn't care less.

Cloud raises his head, a hand on her cheek. His thumb runs across her lower lip, tugging at it a bit. "Such a pretty mouth, uh?" He lets go, aiming for her pants. It doesn't take long for him to get them off. Tifa thinks they might be going too fast, but she doesn't care, she just wants him.

They're kissing as he gets rid of her underwear, and he barely touches her and she moans into his mouth.

"Yeah, I know, babe, I know. Let me take care of you, yeah?"

He's always been vocal during sex, but she gets the feeling it just grew over the years. She's never been with a guy who's _really_ into dirty talk, but she thinks she could get used to it. She wraps her arms around his neck, crushing him to her, kissing him until she's breathless. She gasps when he runs his fingers lightly over her; he does it again, increasing the pressure but avoiding her clit.

"So wet, babe. I'm gonna make you feel so good."

Cloud suddenly gets to his knees, hands spreading her wide, and she'd feel shy but this is Cloud, and he's seen every facet of her. She just stares at him, leaning back, breath catching when he kisses her inner thigh. Her fingers tangle in his hair; she tugs a little, just enough to position his head closer to where she wants him. Their eyes meet for a second, then he licks along her slit, and she's gone.

Cloud's always liked going down on her, and he was good then, but he's definitely better now. The thought is somewhat bitter because she knows what it implies, but she pushes it away, getting lost in the sensations instead. He takes his time, dragging the flat of his tongue against her, teasing her. When he sucks her clit into his mouth, she cries out, and he moves away.

"Wha—at…" The protest dies on her lips when he slips two fingers in her. "Fuck, Cloud."

"Yeah, babe? What do you want? Tell me what you want."

"Your mouth back on me." She's panting.

He obliges, and this time, he's not teasing. He alternates between sucking on her clit and flicking it rapidly, and he's fucking her hard, and she thinks he might have added a third finger because she feels so full. She's on edge and it doesn't take long for her orgasm to wreck through her. She shouts, pulsing around him, and he's gentler, letting her ride it. When her breathing returns to normal, he gets to his feet, looking uncertain for a second, but Tifa brings him into a kiss; it's dirty and messy, and she tastes herself.

"Your turn," she says.

Cloud chuckles. "I think we should head up."

"Hm, never thought about fucking me on a pool table?"

"Don't tempt me."

She jumps off the table, legs a little shaky, but she steadies herself against his chest. He gathers her discarded clothes, and she puts on the underwear, but doesn't bother with the jeans. There's a door that connects directly to the stairs leading to her apartment, so she won't have to go outside.

They make it all the way to her bedroom without tripping over anything, which is a feat considering how they're all over each other and not at all looking where they're stepping. Cloud throws his shirt over his head, and she undoes his belt, starts on taking off his pants when he brings her head up and kisses her. It lacks finesse, really is just a mess of teeth and tongues, and that's when Tifa notices his hand is trembling. He's stripped down to his briefs a second later; he attacks the laces on her shirt while she gets rid of her panties.

"Been wanting to do that all night," he speaks into her neck.

Her top is chucked away, her strapless bra discarded soon after. Cloud just _stares_ , and normally she would have laughed, but the way he ghosts his fingers over her breasts coupled with the awe in his eyes shuts her up. He leans forward, capturing her mouth and sucking her tongue in his mouth; she sighs and feels his cock twitch against her thigh at the sound. She palms him through his briefs, swallowing his gasp with a small smile. He notices as he backs away to grab her ass, applying pressure; she recognizes the signal for what it is, and jumps up, wrapping her legs around his hips.

"You love this, don't you?" He drops them on the bed, staying in the cradle of her legs. He slips two fingers in her, not moving them save for the tiniest curl towards him. He lays a thousand kisses on her body as he speaks. "Yeah, babe, you do." She clenches against him, moaning, when he thumbs her clit. "Fuck, Tifa, fuck, you make the prettiest noises." He takes her nipple in his mouth, licking, sucking, until she whimpers again, louder, more desperate. "There it is, babe, there it is again. I want to hear you all night long."

Tifa feels her muscles tense, and so does he; he removes his fingers, trailing them over her legs and stomach. "You're so wet, Tifa. So hot." He makes a move to tangle his other hand in her hair, but stops when he sees it's still in a bun. But she wants his hand in her hair, tugging her head back so he can kiss her filthy as she comes—that fine line between pain and pleasure as he wraps her locks into a fist to expose her neck he can suck a mark on her skin. She pushes him off her wordlessly, just enough that she can raise up on her elbows and take out the elastic holding the mass of hair.

Cloud doesn't waste any time, cupping the back of her head, squeezing once and then letting go, kissing her jaw, moving down to her tits, her stomach. She runs her hands over his shoulders, digging her nails in the muscle, knowing how much he likes that.

"Stop teasing."

"You wanna come again, babe?" He drags the flat of his tongue over her cunt, stopping to bear down on her clit. Her hand shoots out to keep him there, but he grabs her wrist and brings to her chest. "Give your pretty tits some love," he murmurs into her skin, almost as an afterthought. She does, and he raises his head slightly to watch her with the tiniest smile. "Yeah, babe, that's it. Don't worry, I'll take care of you." He rises to his knees, hovering over her, bringing his hand to her mouth and sliding his fingers over her lips. She opens her mouth a bit, just enough for him to slip two fingers in and press against her tongue. His voice is hoarse. "Yeah, I remember what that mouth of yours can do." She moans and closes her mouth over his fingers, sucking and laving her tongue over them. He groans, slipping them out. "Christ, Tifa. Fucking hell, babe, don't tempt me. I want to come inside you. You wanna come around my cock, babe?"

"Come on, Cloud. Please," she breathes out, scraping her nails down his chest.

It's the please that undoes him, and he removes his briefs, impatient but not clumsy. He lays back over her, the head of his dick bumping against her clit, making her throw back her head. "Condom's in the drawer," is all she says.

He finds one easily, slips it on, and she just watches him. He stares back, and the atmosphere shifts. She can see the tension leave his body as he comes down for a kiss, slow and deep and intimate. He leaves a trail down her neck. She can feel his shaky breaths warm her skin.

It's the way he grips her waist, her hip, her leg—possessive, a little rough, but gentle all at once; the way he bites the swell of her breast, then soothes it with his tongue; the way he puts all of himself into making her feel good; the way he's suddenly silent; the way his kisses are desperate and warm and make her want to cry. It's the same way he kissed her before leaving.

She knows this is different. It's a promise, not a goodbye, but all her mind can focus on is that scene in her backyard all those years ago. The pleasure fades away; she feels the tears fall, and she throws her arm over her face, hoping to hide them from Cloud. The tears are all but fuel for the darkness inside her, morphing into panic, and _fuck_ , she can't let him see her like, can't bear to hear his apologies—this will wreck him, she thinks, and it'll just be another reason for him to feel guilty. But the anxiety makes her breathing irregular and loud, and suddenly Cloud is gently pushing her arm away from her eyes. He looks as destroyed as she knew he would, and she hasn't even said anything yet. She pushes his hand away, hiding behind hers.

"Tifa…" He sounds broken.

Is this what they're bound to do? Mend and heal together until she breaks and tears everything apart? Did they create a vicious cycle that they'll never be able to stop?

She feels him move around, feels the sheet cover her, feels him putting a distance between them. The movement is a distraction as she tries to regulate her breathing. It takes a few minutes, and Cloud stays silent. It's only once she's calmed down enough to speak that she does.

"I bet you never had a girl cry during sex." Her voice is raspy, and she hates the sound of it.

He doesn't find it funny—neither does she, to be honest.

"Tell me," he says.

They're back to that push-and-pull thing they do, and she's terrified, because last time didn't end well. She considers lying, but it really is futile. He lets her gather her thoughts as he starts touching her sweetly, just a ghost of a caress along her belly. Cloud can read her like nobody else can. He sweeps along her skin as if reading braille, or a language only he can decipher, until he knows her better than she knows herself.

Tifa lets her hands fall away, turns on her side to look at him. She's glad to see he didn't move that far away, just enough to give her space. He stops touching her for a moment, but then returns to it, only this time he pushes back the hair from her face.

"Tell me," he says again.

She licks her lips, unsure. "I, uh, something came back to me."

He frowns, hand stilling on her shoulder. "I'm not going to—"

"I know," she cuts him off. "I _know_ , it just came back. I—I started thinking about it, and it overwhelmed everything else."

Cloud swallows, and his eyes drift past her. "I don't think you do."

"Cloud, no."

He turns to lie on his back, stare fixed on the ceiling. "I don't blame you."

"Cloud, stop it, okay? I'm not going to have that reaction every time. But this is different, this is bigger." She scoots closer to him. "It scared me, and honestly, it's normal. It's been years, and with the way it ended… So this is big, but I'll be okay."

He looks at her, and she knows—he's scared, too. She's not sure what to say anymore, so she kisses him. It takes a few seconds for him to respond, but then his hands are in her hair again, holding her closer.

" _We_ 're gonna be ok," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"If you finally fuck me, we will."

Cloud pulls back, and she's proud when he looks a little shocked. He laughs. "Bossy."

She hums as an answer, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over his chest, relishing the way his muscles contract under her tongue. She thinks about teasing him a bit like he'd done to her, but she's done waiting. She straddles him, rubbing herself against his dick, coating him in her wetness. Cloud lets out a puff of air, his hands gripping her ass.

His voice comes out low when he asks, "You sure?"—she can't help but smile at his concern. She nods.

She sinks down on him, hard, and whines at the sensation. The stretch of him feels amazing, and she takes a moment to accommodate.

"Look at me, Tifa. Give me your eyes."

She does, and he's got that same expression on his face, the awed one he gave her when he first saw her naked tonight. He's waiting for her to tell him it's alright. She nods again. His hands flex on her ass, but he doesn't push her to move. She starts slow, rocking against him. Cloud grunts and sighs, but doesn't speak, and she realizes she misses his voice. Tifa reaches a hand, touches his lips, his chin.

"Talk to me."

He laughs, but it's strained. "Figures you'd like it. Always had a filthy mouth."

It's her turn to laugh. "I do." He doesn't say anything for a moment, so she clenches around him in quick succession, knowing that will make him react. His hips buck up, and one of his hands comes around to hold her down.

"Fuck, babe, you don't play fair. I'm trying to take this slow."

Taking his hands, she places them on her tits, and then lifts herself up, slamming down on him fast. "I don't _want_ slow. I want you to fuck me."

Cloud's eyes darken at her words; he sits up, crushing her to him. He thumbs her nipple, his other hand going to into her hair, yanking her head back. Yes, she thinks, _yes, finally_.

"Tell me how you want me to fuck you, babe," he says, grazing his teeth against the column of her throat.

"Hard. Until I scream."

He rolls them over abruptly, sitting back on his haunches; he grabs her hips, lining up, and then slams deep inside her, and she gasps at the intensity of it, gripping the sheets next to her head. Cloud gives her a few shallow thrusts, almost teasing. She wraps her legs around him, and the change in angle makes the grind of his cock hit a spot inside her that makes her swear.

"Aw, fuck, Tifa. Christ, babe." She whines at his words. "You feel so good. Want me to tell you how you feel around me?" He keeps a hand on her hip for leverage, but brings the other one to her breasts. "You want that?"

She nods, not sure she can speak.

"So good, babe, so fucking sweet." He snaps his hips forward once, twice, and then he's done teasing, fucking her hard and deep. Keeping her legs around him, he leans over her to mouth at her tits; the way the head of his cock now hits a spot over and over again has her moaning and gasping. "That's it, Tifa, fuck. The way your cunt feels around me when you come is the best. I wanna feel that again. Let me take care of you, lemme get you there, uh?"

He brings his fingers to her clit, not moving them, just applying a pressure that brings her to the edge.

"Fuck, Cloud, please," she moans. Her arms wrap around him, and by his groan, she probably scratched his back.

He licks her nipple as he makes his way to her mouth. "Oh fuck, babe. There you go, I can feel you, Tifa." He starts to circle her clit, fast and hard. "So fucking sweet, babe. Give me your eyes. I want to see you." His thrusts become harder, frenzied. She does her best to look into his eyes, keeps them open until she comes, her body shaking from the pleasure. She lets out a shout, clenching around him, and then he's kissing her the way she likes, fucking into her mouth and tugging her head back. She feels him shudder as he comes, and she swallows his gasps and muttered _fucks_.

Tifa runs her hand through his hair as he lays lazy kisses over her body.

"I have to get up."

"Hm."

Cloud slowly tears himself away, not far, just to the trashcan near her dresser in order to throw away the condom. She feels him settle next to her once he comes back.

"You ever thought we'd get back here?" He asks.

"I never let me myself think about it until recently."

"Yeah."

All she hears is their heavy breathing. After a while, she turns on her side to face him. He's looking at the ceiling.

"That's not what you wanted to hear?" Tifa doesn't think it was, anyway.

He takes a moment to answer, and she gets the feeling it's because she might not like it.

"I—for a long time—I wasn't—"

She was right. She doesn't want to hear it.

"Don't worry about it, Cloud," she interrupts.

He sits up, and Tifa can sense the remains of the good mood fleeing. Her heart constricts.

"I do. I worry about it. I—"

She leans up to kiss him. "Don't think about it," she whispers.

They stop talking.

—

The first time they go out with friends after that night is an awkward mess. It's only been two weeks, but it's two weeks where they've both worked a lot and barely seen each other. They haven't discussed the change in their relationship much; there's this sense of fragility still, and so far they haven't told anybody.

They all meet up at a bar Laura likes. It's loud and crowded and popular, and Tifa's never liked it. She's the last one to arrive, and she squeezes in next to Ollie. Cloud is on Ollie's other side.

She can immediately sense that something is amiss. Ollie, who is the most casual person she knows, is fidgeting. Ashton looks pissed. Ivan looks like he wants to be anywhere else. Laura looks a mix of angry and sad. She can't really see Cloud's face, but he seems fixated on his drink.

What she really wants to say is, "What the fuck"—but she settles on, "Hi guys."

It's followed by a chorus of hellos and awkwardly false smiles. Tifa is honestly a little baffled.

Ivan slides a beer her way. "We already ordered since it's so busy."

"Thanks," she says, trying not to sound to weirded out. "I'll take it."

It's silent while she takes a few sips, until Ashton drags a reluctant Laura out to dance. Once they're out of sight, Ollie lets out a huge sigh.

Tifa can't hold it in anymore. "Alright, what the _fuck_ is going on?"

"Well, just to start," Ollie says, voice almost monotone, "when we got here, a group of drunk girls started chatting us up."

Tifa frowns. "Which happens all the time, so…" She drags out the word, confused.

"So one of them was after Cloud. She was really determined," he adds seriously.

She chuckles. "Okay?"

"Dude said he had a girlfriend so she would unglue herself from his side. The girl backed off really nicely and all." Ollie goes on. "Laura kind of took it upon herself to, uh, play the girlfriend part."

"Oh, okay," Tifa says.

Cloud hides his face in his hands and groans.

"Anyway, let's say Cloud's reaction wasn't on the positive spectrum."

Ivan nods. "You could have let her down a little more gently, though. She wanted to help."

Ollie scoffs. "Bro, no. She just took the opportunity. I've known her for years, and that was obviously a move."

"Right, but since he doesn't have a girlfriend, she thought it was the right moment."

Cloud finally looks up. "Actually—"

"He has a girlfriend," Tifa finishes for him.

Ivan and Ollie stare at her. She points to herself.

"Shit."

"Could it get _more_ awkward?"

Tifa wonders when her life became a soap opera.

"Let's just—forget it happened," Cloud grumbles.

They do for most of the night. Tifa and Cloud stay where they're seated; Laura and Ashton come back from the dance floor and seem in a better mood; Ivan and Ollie don't let anything slip. It almost feels like a normal evening out.

It's when they leave that the tension reappears. Tifa hasn't had a lot to drink, but she's a bit tipsy, and honestly, she just wants to cuddle Cloud. So when they all stand, she grabs his arm as they're walking out.

"Sorry," he tells her, actually sounding guilty.

She shakes her head. "I don't really care." It's true. She's more worried about if and how their group will be affected.

Once they're all outside, Tifa links her arm through Cloud's, and leans heavily against him. Her eyes cross with Ashton's, and he winks.

Ivan asks if they're all down with going to another bar.

"We'll be heading home," Cloud says casually.

Silence. Ivan coughs.

They all know when Laura realizes what's going on; her face turns pale and she gasps.

"Oh, _fuck_."

Ashton starts laughing. "Surprise."

"Shut up, you didn't know until a minute ago." Tifa rolls her eyes.

"Tifa, I'm so sorry. Oh my god." Laura's a little drunk, and Drunk Laura cries easily, so no one is shocked when she starts wiping at her eyes.

"Honestly, Laura, it's not a big deal. We'll talk tomorrow, alright?" Tifa goes to hug her friend. Laura nods furiously and almost tackles her when she returns the embrace. It takes a lot of pats on the back and hushed "it's okay" for Laura to let go, but when she does, Tifa can see her friend feels better.

Her and Cloud say goodbye to the others; their walk is mostly silent although pleasant. Tifa's tired—she's had a long day, a long week really, and she just wants to get into comfortable clothes.

They get to her apartment, avoiding the crowd at the bar and heading up directly. Cloud discards his jacket as soon as they pass the entryway, and throws it on the sofa. Tifa can't help but notice he seem angsty, and she hopes it's not because of the Laura situation (she thinks it'd be a little ridiculous, but also such a Cloud thing). So she changes into an oversized flannel and legging, leaving him alone with his thoughts for a few minutes. No need to push him; she gets the feeling he'll talk once he's found the words.

And as she expected, when she walks into the living room, he's waiting for her.

"I'm sorry."

She won't lie, she's a little taken aback. "Cloud, seriously, I don't care about the Laura thing."

"What? Oh." He shakes his head. He's standing in the middle of the room, between the TV and the couch. She inches closer. "No, I'm not talking about that."

"Did something happen?" She asks carefully, now unsure.

Cloud takes a deep breath. "No."

Her heart is racing. "Cloud, you're starting to freak me out."

"I just—" He's got a wild look in his eyes. "You have to know I'm sorry about what happened. About leaving, about your dad, about all the lying."

Tifa brings a hand to her throat; she can feel her heartbeat on the tip of her thumb.

"Cloud, I know that," she says softly.

He takes a couple of steps back, almost bumps into the TV, rights himself at the last second, but Tifa barely notices.

"This is different. This is—different. You have to know. I—it eats away at me." His voice cracks, and his eyes stare at something beyond her. She feels the always there ghosts that linger between them. They swirl around, clouding them in uncertainty, filling in the blank spaces, drawing in all the air until they both suffocate.

"Tifa. You—you have to know."

Panic is rising within her. "I _know_. Cloud, what's going _on_?"

"You don't. Not that. Not—" His breathing is shallow; she faintly notes the shaking of his hand. "Fuck, this is a mess."

She wants to reach out to him, touch him, but she knows he'll just step away, and she'd rather avoid the pain his rejection might cause.

"What are you trying to tell me?" She says slowly instead. "Take your time."

He cracks his knuckles, something he told her he began doing when he quit smoking.

When he speaks next, his voice is hoarse. "While I was away, I—I was so fucking sorry, Tifa. I was feeling so guilty, I—" He swallows audibly. "I wanted to die, too. For a while."

She stands still, frozen.

He goes on, eyes closed. "Not—I mean, I didn't _do_ anything, but it was always in the back of my mind. The thought wouldn't go away, I didn't care, I just wanted it to happen."

His eyes open, and this time he sees her. "When I heard about Zack from your email, it broke something in me. I felt like it should have been me—not him, not anyone else, not Aerith." His voice shakes as he mentions his cousin, and a few tears slip out. "Fuck." He wipes them away clumsily. "Everything just went _so wrong_."

They're both quiet for a moment. Tifa feels like her legs will give out anytime.

"When I saw you again, I was—terrified. Tifa, I almost ran away again." The shame thickens his voice. "But I didn't run, and I'm so glad I didn't. Tifa, there's no other way to say it—but you saved me. In many ways, you saved me when you walked into that garage. And to be honest, I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't."

She inhales shakily; the tears that refuse to fall sting her eyes. He's standing straighter now, and she can see he's shed another burden by confessing.

"Why are you telling me this now?" The words almost don't come out, and they're so quiet, so low, she's not sure he's heard her.

"Because, this is different. This is—this is something I'd never thought I'd get back, Tifa. A second chance. A second chance at—at life. With you. With my brother." He chuckles but there's no humour. "At being happy. And you have to know because I can't hide it, and I don't want to."

She lets out a small sob, unable to keep it in check.

"Tifa." He inhales, exhales; the sound in loud in the dark apartment. "I love you. I've loved you before, and I love you now. I want to be with you any way I can, any way you'll let me, for as long as I can. I've felt like that for a long time now. I was afraid to make mistakes and lose you and everything we've built—but now, now is the right time, babe. We can do this. We can do this together, finally. That's why—that's why I had to tell you."

Tifa can't help it; she starts crying. It's not pretty—she's sobbing, and it's loud and painful. But at the same time, it feels like she's expelling something from her body, like Cloud's words have exorcised an ugliness she wasn't aware she carried before.

When he wraps his arms around her, she just cries harder, but his warmth radiates through her body and soothes aches both old and new. It takes her a while to pull herself together; when she does, her mind is the calmest it's ever been.

"Thank you," she breathes out.

"I meant it."

"And I mean it, too. Thank you."

There isn't much conversation after. It's all soft caresses, breathy sighs, hushed I-love-you's, and secret smiles.

The next morning, the sunshine floods the room. They forgot to close the blinds, Tifa thinks, half-asleep. It's a gentle sunshine, the kind that warms your skin and your heart, that melts your worries and questions with its touch. It's the kind that spells a happy day.

A happy day—Tifa smiles.

For now, she'll take that gentle sunshine.


	2. Part II : Them, Together

**A/N:** Hello again!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favourited!

Once again, I might continue this series when I have the time and if inspiration strikes, so keep an eye out if you're interested!

Again, I wrote this kind of quickly, so forgive any mistakes. Pretty please?

—

 **A GENTLE SUNSHINE**

THEM, TOGETHER

—

It's raining on the day Cloud talks to Vincent again. It's the first time they see each other since Nibelheim. It doesn't go well.

For Cloud, it's a slap in the face. Not that he expected something drastically different, and honestly, he deserves it. But things with Tifa are _good_ , and he doesn't let himself think of the negative—or he tries, at least. He tries hard. He's been doing good, better; he's happier than he's ever been.

So when Vincent shows up at Tifa's apartment on a rainy day, Cloud feels the past catching up with him. Again.

Not that he'd ever be able to leave it all behind. That would be impossible.

They're watching TV when the sound of the buzzer disrupts the quiet evening. Tifa is sleeping; she's been tired these days, and he's a little worried. She doesn't usually nap at this hour.

He doesn't want to get up at first, comfortable where he is, Tifa draped over his chest; it might be Cid, and Cid can fuck off right now. But he stands when it sounds a second time. Tifa mumbles, hand reaching for him, as he gently moves her off him. She doesn't wake up, though, only curls on herself as he walks off.

"Yeah," he says through the intercom.

There isn't an immediate answer. Then, "It's Vincent."

Cloud freezes, hesitant. Technically, he doesn't live here. This is Tifa's place, and Tifa wouldn't turn him away. She hasn't seen him a long time. He shouldn't be a dick. Should he?

In the end, he lets Vincent in, and he won't lie, he's a little afraid of what's going to happen. They (he) never made their mess right, and then he disappeared. Yeah, this is gonna go to shit.

Cloud unlocks the door, but stands a little further down the hallway, closer to the kitchen. He doesn't want to wake up Tifa. He hears quiet footsteps, the door opening softly, and then Vincent is there.

The guy has changed, is Cloud's first thought. His hair is shorter—still long enough to tie up, but shorter. He doesn't slouch as much.

In complete silence, Vincent removes his shoes, but keeps the windbreaker on. He pads towards Cloud.

Fuck, this is awkward.

"Tifa is sleeping," Cloud says after a couple of seconds.

Vincent is a tall guy, much taller than Cloud is, and he's annoyed that he has to look up to him. It's childish, he knows, but he can't help it.

"I'll wait."

Damn it. Fucking hell.

Honestly, Cloud doesn't hate Vincent; he doesn't even _dislike_ him. It's a symphony of emotions; the strings play the shame, the choir sings the regret, the drumbeats are the jealousy. There used to be a piano melody that performed the yearning for the past, but it has muted with the years.

Instead of saying something he'll regret, Cloud enters the kitchen and leans on the counter. There's both nothing to say and too much to say. That has always been the problem with Vincent. He never knows where to start, or where to end, or even _if_ he should start.

Vincent sits at the table. He doesn't fidget. He doesn't check his phone. He glances around, almost as if he's never been here before. Cloud knows that isn't true, and it hits him that Vincent is looking for traces of _him,_ clearly wondering how Cloud fits into the puzzle. He doesn't appear satisfied or disappointed, just observant, and for some reason, it makes it worse.

Then, Vincent speaks, and that's when things go to shit.

"So you and Tifa are back together."

Cloud clears his throat. "Yeah."

There are no congratulations, but Cloud already knew there wouldn't be any. The people who knew them back in the day have had varied reactions to Tifa and him being a couple again. They mostly range from anger to disbelief to wariness to forced indifference. Nothing too positive, which, Cloud has to admit, is understandable, all things considered.

"So how long are you sticking around this time?"

Vincent's voice is calm, collected. It's neither biting nor vicious. For Vincent, it's not a possibility, it's a certainty. And Cloud hates that this is all he's been reduced to—the guy who left. Still, he can't deny it, won't deny it, because, fuck it, it's _true_.

Tifa might have forgiven him, but she's the only one who has. And the people who care about her aren't inclined to do the same.

So Cloud swallows back the bitterness; he inhales, exhales, crosses his arms over his chest, looks away. He doesn't know what to say, and anyway, he doesn't know what he _wants_ to say.

"Why are you here, Cloud?" Vincent asks, still matter-of-factly. "Why are you here, when all you're gonna end up doing is hurting her."

Cloud grits his teeth. "I won't leave."

He won't. Goddamn it, he won't if it's the last thing he ever does.

Vincent gets to his feet. Apparently, he doesn't feel like waiting anymore. Cloud is glad for it, wishes for him to leave. But Vincent keeps on talking.

" _You_ destroyed her, Cloud." He pauses as if to let the words sink in. Little does he know, Cloud is already aware of this. He's been told many, many times. He thinks about it very, very often. "She's my best friend, and I just want what's best for her."

The unsaid words— _and that's not you_ —hang in the air. Cloud inhales them as they float around him, and their poison slowly seeps into his veins.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks. "Vincent—" He can't say more because Vincent cuts him off.

"I can't believe there was a time when I cared about being friends with a coward like you again." Vincent turns around. "Tell Tifa to call me."

It's such a dismissive command that Cloud thinks he should fee, offended, but he just feels like all warmth has been sapped out of him, and all that's left is the cursed anxiety, the shame, the fear, the anger.

But it's not worth it to start a fight, he's aware of that, so he shuts up as he watches Vincent leave. He wishes Tifa was awake as the door closes; honestly, he doesn't know what to do with himself right now. He goes back into the living room, sits in the armchair, and resumes watching muted TV.

Tifa wakes up an hour later. He doesn't tell her immediately that Vincent was here. He's not sure he wants to tell her, to be honest, but in the end, he does, knowing hiding it won't do any good to anyone.

"You guys talked?"

"Not really. He just said to call him."

"Oh, okay…"

She's surprised at first, then disappointed. It isn't much of a surprise, really; Tifa had always wanted them to have a reconciliation. But he doesn't mention the hard truths Vincent spewed, though he remembers them, thinks about them. He wills himself not to—positive, think positive—but like always, there are tendrils of darkness controlling him like a puppet. He hides his uncertainty the best he can.

Because, really, he's not actually uncertain; he's just insecure. And nobody but Tifa seems to have a speck of faith in him; he wants it to be enough, fuck it, he really wants it to be. But everyone looks at him _that way_ , and every day, every minute, he bears the weight of their stares, their expectations. He's not Atlas, damn it. He can't be. He's got enough of his own world to carry.

He's got enough

—

Tifa and him don't fight much. They still do, of course. But it's a rare occasion nowadays.

Still, as the date approaches, he anticipates a fight. He's ready for it, he thinks, ready for another screaming match like the one they had in the toilet months ago. He knows something will happen.

So he watches the days go by, his heart spasming every time he checks the calendar on his phone.

It falls on a Thursday, the day of Aerith's funeral. The day Tifa killed _him._ The day Cloud left. It's a few days after Tifa's birthday.

This is the first year where they're together on this date. In the past, they've both avoided the other. The week leading up to it is a quiet crescendo of tension. Cloud resolves to be there. He's staying for good after all; he needs to show it.

But he doesn't get a fight. Quiet the opposite. All he gets is the stretched sound of the shower as he comes over after work. He wonders if she hid away on purpose, knowing what time he'd be there.

The thought hurts, yes. But he knows she might need a moment to gather her emotions. He can handle that. What he can't, however, is when it's been an hour and she still hasn't come out. He can't because the worry gnaws at him like a live beast.

"Tifa?" He calls softly as he knocks on the bathroom door.

There's no answer, still only the rhythmic fall of water, so he slowly walks in.

She's huddled in the bath, still clothed, completely drenched. The water is lukewarm, bordering on cold. His heart shatters.

"Babe, come on," he says with all the gentleness he can muster. She doesn't resist as he turns off the shower, gets her to her feet, strips her down, dries her with the fluffiest towel he can find, dresses her in her favourite PJs, blow dries her hair, and gets her into bed.

But the moment she climbs in, she turns her back to him. The gesture isn't a spear through his heart; that's too quick, too clean. No, it's a great fire that slowly, painfully chars his insides, and he tastes ash in his mouth.

"Tifa, please."

Silence.

He doesn't try to touch her, instinctively knowing it would be the wrong move. But he can't take this, can't take seeing her like this; alone, cold, silent, and so goddamn sad. His hands shake as he searches for her cell phone.

It's on the kitchen counter, but still, it's the last place he thinks to look in his agitation. She gave him her passcode a long time ago; it takes him two tries to remember it since it's not like he uses it often. He scrolls through her contacts.

Vincent answers on the second ring. "Are you okay?"

Damn him for already knowing what this is about. Cloud realizes he has tears in his eyes as he's about to answer. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn it all.

"She won't speak, won't move," he says, his voice raspy, broken. "I—I don't know what to do."

"I'm on my way."

Cloud had assumed he would detect condescension, disgust, maybe pity, in Vincent's tone, but it's just that cold matter-of-fact quality. The one that says _You're not needed right now_.

So he waits, anxious—terrified, really. Tifa has always been a fighter, and to see her defeated like this…it's hard to take in.

He checks on her, of course; she might not want him close, but there's no way he's leaving her alone. He keeps his distance, though, wanting to respect her boundaries; still, he wonders if it's not one he should break. Instead, he watches over her. The only movement coming from her is the rise and fall of her body as she breathes.

When Vincent enters the apartment, he ignores Cloud, making a beeline for the bedroom. He shuts the door behind him. And Cloud—Cloud feels the wall that has just been put into place.

He can't help it, though. After a minute, he moves closer to the door, and eavesdrop a bit. Not out of malicious intent. He just wants to hear Tifa's voice, to reassure himself that she's alive, that she'll be okay. He knows she will be. He'll make sure of it.

The voices are hushed but audible. The flames consuming him burn stronger when he hears Tifa's soft crying.

"—were you in the shower?"

"I woke up and there was blood everywhere."

"Tifa…you know that was a nightmare."

"It was everywhere, I had to clean it off, Vince, I had to."

There's a break. Then, "Cloud is worried. Do you want to see him?"

"No."

That's when he stops listening. Maybe it's selfish, but at this point, he doesn't care. The tremor of his hands has gotten worse. He sits down on the couch. He feels like he's not in his body anymore, just floating around. He notes things around him, things he's seen hundreds of times.

The newly painted walls—all white to bring more light in—and the array of plants Tifa bought two months ago. The fraying thread on the ancient couch and the multiple picture frames hanging on the wall to his left. The stain on the bottom of the curtain and the flashing lights of passing cars illuminating the room.

And it goes on and on and on, until Vincent steps out of the room. Cloud isn't aware of how much time as gone by, doesn't truly care.

"Is she better?" He croaks out.

But all Vincent has to say is this, "You should leave."

Cloud senses his breathing becoming shallow, senses the burst of emotions flowing through him, threatening to explode.

"Look—"

"You should leave, because that's what she asked."

This—this hurts.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

 _Hurts_ is too nice of a word, honestly. The air won't rush into his lungs, his heart won't beat, his chest is cracking open. It feels like he's dying.

Vincent interprets his silence like a protest, but it's really just Cloud unable to speak for fear of crumbling into pieces.

"Just for the night, man. Come back tomorrow. She doesn't want to see you right now."

Of course, it's just for the night. But that combination of words— _she wants you to leave_ —is a trigger to a fully loaded gun. Bang bang bang, and there goes his sanity.

He exits the apartment without saying anything else. He'll puke his guts out if he opens his mouth, no doubt about it. He's not even sure where to go until he remembers he has his own place. That's how little he's been over there recently. He has to drive to get there, but he's not sure he'll be able to, so he takes the bus.

When he walks into the apartment he shares with Ben and Nico, he finds the latter playing video games. He doesn't actually talk much with Nico; they never have and that's not about to change. Nico looks his way, obviously surprised to see him in the doorway, but goes back to his game. It's Ben who makes a big deal out of it.

"Hey! Look who's back."

But Cloud isn't in the mood for jokes and small talk, or anything pleasant actually.

He mumbles a _hello_ as he passes Ben and heads into his room. It's bare, cold, empty, like no ones lives here. That's because no one does.

He's not where he should be, fuck. Fuck, fuck, he's not in the right place.

The rage blazing through him makes his voice raise into a cry. It's not a word, just a garbled sound of anger. He's not shouting kind of guy, or a violent guy. But he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore, doesn't know what he's gonna do if he steps out of the room. It's a muddy mess of emotions—all rational thoughts have fled far away. His skin itches, like he's in the wrong body, and he resists the urge to scratch until there is nothing left and he's free.

Instead, he tears down the clothes from his clothes in hurried movements. He just needs something to do with his hands, something to expel the anger and the shame and the jealousy; the symphony inside rises in volume until it's all he hears.

When he's done, drained, he sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Around him, everything lies on the floor in a mess. The noise from the video game is faint, but still too loud.

He's exhausted all his energy, negative and positive, and when he falls backwards on the bed, he dozes off. He can't sleep per se. He hovers between oblivion and consciousness all night, waking up at the smallest noise, the tiniest movement. When the sun comes up, it's hidden behind a thick curtain of clouds.

He wants to go back to Tifa as soon as he gets up. He's afraid of waiting too long and fall into the You Should Have Benn Here Sooner trap. He's also afraid of rushing and fall into the You Should Have Given Her More Time trap. In the end, there's no perfect way to do this, and he waits until lunchtime. He goes by the deli, gets them sandwiches; he doesn't feel like eating, not at all, but he figures she might be hungry. He gets one for Vincent. Just in case. It's plain ham and cheese since he has no idea what Vincent likes. He thinks, if they guy doesn't like tomatoes, he'll just have to pick them off.

He took the bus last night, so the way back is long. He does his best not to let his mind wander, but it's hard, really damn hard. Still, he manages.

Vincent calls as he's waiting for the second bus. Cloud doesn't recognize the number, but he knows it's him.

"Hello?"

Vincent cuts right to the chase. "I'm about to leave, so you should head back."

"I'm already on my way. I'll be there in ten."

There's a pause, as if Vincent doesn't believe that's possible. Or maybe Cloud is just presuming the worst since that's what everybody does with him.

"Alright." He hangs up.

Nostalgia flares up at the curtness of their conversation, and Cloud represses it. This is not the time for reminiscence that won't lead anywhere.

The remaining time flies. Cloud is anxious; he fidgets. He keeps checking his phone, his knee is bouncing, his hand clenches and unclenches. The teenager sitting next to him on the semi-crowded bus keeps sending him annoyed looks. Cloud doesn't let it bother him.

He lets himself into Tifa's apartment after hesitating. He thinks about ringing instead of using his key, but shakes himself out of it.

The sound of the lock is loud. It summons Vincent, already dressed to go, who pokes his head around the kitchen wall. Cloud is unsure on what to do next. Does he thank Vincent? Do they make small talk? Do they discuss what happened to Tifa? Does he need to speak at all?

Apparently, no. Vincent whispers something to Tifa, also in the kitchen it seems, and then, he heads for the door. He stops when he's next to Cloud. They stare at each other. It's the first time that Vincent's eyes have a glint of warmth. Cloud nods, he does the same, and he's gone.

The ensuing silence is heavy, and Cloud stays where he is in the entryway. He removes his jacket, hangs it up, but can't bring himself to make that step forward. He's afraid, he realizes, so fucking afraid.

But then, Tifa is there; she's in a huge T-shirt she likes to pretend is a dress, barefoot, her hair in a bun. While her appearance is messy compared to usual, her face shows she's okay. Her eyes shine, and yeah, those maybe tears, but he knows Tifa—he knows her so well, fuck—and those aren't bad tears.

She walks to him, almost runs, and throws herself at him, her arms tight around his neck, her legs around his waist. He releases a breath in her neck, relieved, soothed. His legs lose all their strength and he collapses against the wall; they slid down, intertwined. Cloud exhales loudly again.

It takes a while, who knows how long, before they separate. They don't say anything. Tifa just kisses him, kisses him with everything she is, everything she has.

It's frenzied, what happens next. They fall to the ground, clothes askew but still on. The apartment is filled with the sound of their sighs.

Cloud chants into her skin, willing it to absorb all he to give her. It's a litany— _fuck, I love you, Tifa, babe_ —that he breathes into her body to reach her soul. And as she comes, he hits the final note of the prayer, and all that remains is them, together.

—

The next time Cloud talks to him, Vincent is taken aback; Cloud can hear it through the phone.

But, he figures, Vincent has been there when he wasn't. That's a fact. The right thing to do—what he _wants_ to do—is acknowledge that.

And yeah, they'll probably never be friends again, but Vincent deserves to hear an apology that was never given and is ten years late. Cloud wants to make this right, or at least as right as he can make it.

So he calls.


End file.
